


After the End

by yotoll



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Love Confessions, M/M, The Night At Crowley's Flat (Good Omens), heavily implied not shown, kind of not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:01:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27625787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yotoll/pseuds/yotoll
Summary: The world hadn’t ended, and that was something Aziraphale was still wrapping his head around. The past 24 hours alone had changed so much about what he fundamentally understood. He had gone against Heaven itself after so long trying to defend and serve in its name. He didn’t know where to go from here. Then, Crowley offered up his flat for the night, and he still had that knee-jerk reaction to keep him at a distance. Keep them separate but safe.But the bookshop was gone.-Aziraphale and Crowley come to terms for what has passed, both from the past week and 6,000 years. Turns out, there was a lot they hadn't managed before the end of the world.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 50





	1. Stay with Me

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone has to have one "Night at Crowley's Flat" fic. Here's one that starts off very contemplative before moving into something more romantic and sweet.  
> Enjoy and let me know what you think~!  
> (No guarantees when I'll have the next chapters posted, but it is all written and just needs to be edited at this point.)

The world hadn’t ended, and that was something Aziraphale was still wrapping his head around. The past 24 hours alone had changed so much about what he fundamentally understood. He had gone against Heaven itself after so long trying to defend and serve in its name. He didn’t know where to go from here. Then, Crowley offered up his flat for the night, and he still had that knee-jerk reaction to keep him at a distance. Keep them separate but safe.

But the bookshop was gone. Heaven and Hell had seen them standing there, together. Not exactly  _ together _ together, that was another matter, but they had marked themselves out. They had stood for the Earth, and Aziraphale liked to believe they stood for each other, too. He couldn’t speak for Crowley, of course; the demon had a mind of his own that went as fast as he did sometimes. He could only hope, and this invitation felt a lot like Crowley reaching out.

They got on the bus together, and Aziraphale put forth his own offer. He sat right next to Crowley—no need to be behind him, to appear unassociated—and held his hand. Crowley’s breath hitched, but the demon’s fingers interlaced with his, easy as anything. He watched Aziraphale cautiously out of the corner of his glasses. Aziraphale met his gaze through the lenses, and the angel’s mouth twitched up. They looked away from each other as understanding passed between them, right where their hands linked together. Crowley shifted and rested his sooty head against Aziraphale, clearly exhausted. Any other time, Aziraphale might have fussed about the dirt and his coat, but it had been a long day, and it was remarkable that he even had a shoulder for Crowley to lean on. Aziraphale blessed his dreams silently and rubbed a thumb against Crowley’s bony fingers.

The bus drove through the night, the driver kept alert and surprisingly content to be working so late at night. Aziraphale watched the world go by behind a ghost of their reflections. He looked at himself, not that surprised to find Adam had perfectly restored his corporation, right down to the laugh lines and crow’s feet. Then, he looked at Crowley, disheveled and dirty from all he had gone through. Even Aziraphale, for all his resistance to sleep, could admit Crowley desperately needed rest. Driving through a ring of fire, stopping time, and facing down Satan himself was, understandably, a bit demanding.

_ I’ll watch over you, my dear boy _ , Aziraphale promised. Being awake would give him time to think. To understand where he stood, and perhaps know what direction to go in now.

Miles passed by them as Aziraphale kept his vigil and turned events in his mind. He had failed Heaven for the sake of the Earth. The beautiful creatures that walked about it, the wonderful web of civilization humanity had constructed on its surface. He was marked as a failure and a traitor for choosing to save it and prevent the War. There were all these questions inside him, that had always been inside him, but instead of pushing them away and trying to “have faith,” he was starting to consider it all over again. Piecing together the simple answers to try and come to some grand truth.

She had created humans in Her image. Then, She had given them freewill and punished them for using it. Cast them away from the paradise She made. And then it was set in motion for the Earth to be destroyed, but not without the chance for humans to do such wonderful things in their limited lives. Thousands of years to build such unique works and construct what they could from the Earth. Often they overlapped each other, reforming buildings and taking inspiration and constantly creating in their own, unique ways. A brilliance that Aziraphale desperately tried to contain in his library, but he knew it could never be restrained to just the printed word. It took the whole Earth to hold what the humans had done, for better or for worse.

So why give them all that time to create, if only to destroy it all in the end? It didn’t match up, and he knew an older him would call it “ineffable,” but now it just seemed senseless. Was that the point all along? To have someone stand up and call it out? But then why would there be the Fallen? Why would Crowley, who only ever asked these sorts of questions, have Fallen? The point couldn’t have been to question and defy, otherwise there wouldn’t be a Hell. Yet here he sat, having questioned and defied, and he hadn’t Fallen. Whatever ruleset Heaven applied wasn’t consistent. It was subjective at best, random at worst. How was he meant to serve?

_ Have faith _ , naturally.  _ It’s ineffable _ , of course. It was beginning to feel more and more like some cruel trick, and he was at the center of it, and his existence hinged on unknowns he not only had to trust in but defend any time someone pointed out how flawed it was. Crowley, being the demon he was, naturally sparked those questions just by breathing. From the first moment he had poked holes in the idea of the Garden, of the temptation he himself had made. Aziraphale understood Crowley’s questions well enough and had come to expect it any time he sat and chatted with the demon. It was a part of their banter, and he had taken it lightly most of the time.

The ones that truly got under his skin were the ones from the humans. The pleading and begging in desperate times, being offered nothing in return for all their cries. Spiteful people refuting the existence of any kind of god due to their unfortunate lifestyles. People who, out of sheer arrogance, bolstered themselves above such ideas all together and didn’t put any stock in anything without proof. Those chipped away at his defense. He had to echo words of trust and faith that became more and more hollow as the ages dragged on. Those same humans deserved the truth and understanding more than he did. Perhaps they were granted some of that knowledge after they passed on. He hoped so. He couldn’t imagine an eternity of peace without some kind of answer.

In the end, he hadn’t been able to rely on Heaven to see reason. There was no reason to be had. He had no reason to stay other than blind loyalty. He had plenty of reason to fight and defend. To guard. And he was so very grateful he had. Rejecting Crowley’s offer to flee, to be together and out of reach of Heaven and Hell, had hurt. It had hurt them both deeply, and he knew he shouldn’t have been nearly so harsh, but it was all at once about Crowley and not about him. He had to apologize properly for the things he said. There had to be some way yet to explain it, to justify why he had lashed out like that. How he so desperately wanted to be with Crowley, more than anything, but also how he couldn’t just leave their home behind.

Which is what it was, after all, wasn’t it? Their home. Something they had grown in and around just as much as the humans. Demonic and Heavenly influences aside, they had left their marks in small ways. Feet wearing out the ground, conversations that sparked ideas in strangers unintentionally, a restaurant that did just a bit better with their casual patronage. Their story was written in the Earth, and there was no way he could have let that go without a fight.

And now here he sat, his hand laced with the one being he experienced so much of history with. A tired head on his shoulder, beautiful yellow eyes shut, the eyes that had witnessed the Earth unfold around them and took delight in every new step humans took. Aziraphale didn’t know much about how Crowley physically saw the world with those serpentine eyes, but he did know what they had seen and experienced. A mutual delight in something that was beyond their sides and beyond themselves.

In that delight, Aziraphale had also found himself drawn into Crowley. Saw the unexpected kindness from the demon. He got the feeling Crowley hadn’t so much joined Hell as he had left Heaven. For all Crowley acted to spite Heaven and its rules, he still cared for the kids running around. He cared enough to give people a choice, not to just damn them all together. Give them the means, but not force them into the choice.

Perhaps that was the offer to stay the night, then. The means to continue this friendship, the chance to turn it into something more. The choice resting on him. Clasped hands seemed a clear enough answer, even if Aziraphale hadn’t yet realized there was a question.

He leaned his head lightly onto Crowley’s and decided to stay.


	2. Before the End of the World

The bus hissed to a stop outside the Mayfair flat. Aziraphale gently woke Crowley and they departed, giving a small “thank you” and blessing to the driver before leaving. Somewhere in the process, they had let go of each other’s hands. Aziraphale glanced at Crowley, hoping to gauge his feelings, but he was unreadable as always, aside from the obvious exhaustion that stole some of the swagger from his hips as they made their way inside the building.

Slick elevator doors parted to let them in, and they began an automatic ascent to the top. Aziraphale had been to Crowley’s a handful of times before, so it wasn’t new to him. This felt very different, though. Far more intimate. Loaded with subtext and unspoken desires.

The elevator stopped, and they stepped out into a cold, grey hallway. The snake door buzzer stuck out, about as subtle as its resident. Crowley popped open the lock with a wave and stepped inside.

“Oh, watch your step,” Crowley advised. “Pile of ex-demon in my office.”

Aziraphale tensed a bit at that. “I’m sorry?”

“Ligur,” Crowley explained. “He and Hastur came after me. Had to use the holy water.”

 _Ah_. Aziraphale gave a nod. “Right. The… holy water.”

Crowley gave him a pointed look over his glasses. “I told you. Protection.” He continued on into the flat, paying no mind to Aziraphale’s discomfort.

Protection had a lot of meanings. All depended on what he wanted to be protected from. The risk of it had been so immense. But Crowley was safe. He was here. With Aziraphale. They were here together.

The door to the office swung wide, and Aziraphale snapped the mess away before Crowley could even move to step around it. He gave Aziraphale a look, but Aziraphale carried on.

The flat’s minimalism still shocked him every time. It was all hard edges and emptiness, save for the personal flair of an antique portrait here or an intricate throne there. It was a miracle (perhaps a recent one) that there was a sofa and an armchair to sit on, in the same configuration as the bookshop’s seating.

Well, if there had still been a bookshop. The chair would have burned as much as everything else. He felt a pang at the thought, and took a moment just gazing at the chair. That was going to take getting used to. All those memories, all the books and stories he had gathered in that space…

“What do you say to some wine, angel?” Crowley asked, taking Aziraphale out of his reverie. “Bit of celebration before we have to face what comes tomorrow.”

Aziraphale gave a slight smile and nod. “That sounds wonderful, dearest.” His stomach was in a knot. Alcohol would help soothe his nerves. He eased himself into the armchair while Crowley went off to the kitchen.

What comes tomorrow. Aziraphale pulled out the shred of prophecy in his pocket and frowned at it. A clue they needed to decipher. Vague, by all means, but between their divine and demonic minds, they could figure out what the witch meant. She had glimpsed through time and seen something that led to this phrasing. _Choose your faces wisely. Playing with fire._ A way to avoid the opposition.

“Was waiting for a good time to use this,” Crowley said as he came in with the wine and glasses. He handed Aziraphale a glass and sprawled onto the sofa. “Didn’t get to it before the world was meant to end. Funny how that works, huh?” He flicked his finger against the neck of the bottle, and the cork popped free, landing politely on the coffee table.

Aziraphale nodded. “Still somehow had things on my to-do list, even with the world coming to close. Always meant to learn the piano. Somehow never had the time.”

Crowley chuckled and poured Aziraphale a glass of wine. “You saw them invent the thing. Never even tried?”

“Did you?”

Crowley shrugged and poured himself some wine. “Didn’t really think about it much. Oh, wait.” He put a finger to his lips for a moment, thinking. “Once. America. Jazz club I had to get into. Fancied trying to learn, didn’t get very far with it. Too much effort for a temptation.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “Well, if the world ending didn’t make either of us learn, I’m not sure anything will now.”

Crowley grinned and offered his glass up. “To the end of the world.”

“Or lack thereof,” Aziraphale added to the cheers.

They clinked their glasses together and took a sip. It was familiar as anything, even if they didn’t normally drink at Crowley’s flat. They mused a bit over the events of the day, piecing together the odd little band that had formed at Tadfield Airbase and sharing a good laugh at Gabriel and Beelzebub’s flustered looks when neither could confirm about the Ineffable Plan.

They poured a second round of wine, and Crowley swirled his glass contemplatively, watching the light shining off it and staring into the crimson tones. He mumbled something into the glass and took a sip.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Aziraphale asked. He must’ve misheard, because it sounded an awful lot like—

“I said ‘thank you,’ alright?” Crowley snapped. He huffed and gestured widely. “Thank you for not running away with me when I asked. Don’t get a big head about it.”

Aziraphale blinked. “Oh. Well. I…” He looked down at his own wine. “I was going to apologize for that, actually. For… what I said. At the bandstand, and then… outside the shop.” He clutched the glass and tried to find the right words. “I was worried I hurt you. I… was… Well, Heaven was…” He didn’t know how to justify what he had done. Explain how much he had hurt himself with those words.

“You… you were in a rough spot,” Crowley surmised from his stuttering. “You had Heaven on your heels, and the Apocalypse was coming, and there I was, an idiot who wanted to run away. Willing to give up on it all. Literally, all of it.” He gestured broadly to their surroundings with his glass. “It hurt, it did. I’ll take your apology on that one, because it fucked me up for a good bit, even if I knew it couldn’t be true.”

Aziraphale shifted closer and tilted his head. “You knew I was lying?”

Crowley snorted. “You’re a shit liar, angel. Always have been.” He bit his lip and turned his face away. “Lies can have some truth in them, though. So…” He took a beat. “It hurt, especially being told no twice, but it was a reminder. None of this will ever be easy.”

“I was under Heaven’s thumb for quite a while,” Aziraphale agreed. “It was difficult to stand against them, but it was right to do so.” He hesitated for a moment, then reached out and took Crowley’s hand. “I was glad to be by your side, in the end. Thank you for letting me.”

Even partially hidden by his sunglasses, Crowley’s vulnerable expression was obvious. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and his fingers curled between Aziraphale’s. “Couldn’t imagine facing down the end with anyone else, angel.” He set his wine glass down and sat up more so that he was closer to Aziraphale. “I’ll face whatever comes next with you, too.” He took off his glasses and looked intently at Aziraphale. His golden eyes were intense and focused solely on him.

Aziraphale’s cheeks grew hot. He set his own glass down and licked his lips. “Crowley, dearest. If tomorrow is what I fear it will be…” He squeezed his hand.

“I love you,” Crowley breathed. He drew closer, his gaze never faltering. “I understand if you… don’t feel the same, or need some time, but… I have to say it. Because I didn’t say it before the end of the world, and I’ll be damned twice if I don’t say it before tomorrow’s reckoning.”

“Oh, my love.” Aziraphale smiled at the sound of that, fancied the new name on his lips, and Crowley’s breath hitched. “I love you, too.” He touched Crowley’s cheek and rubbed his thumb along the serpent tattoo. Crowley fell into the touch and closed his eyes. He looked ready to cry. “I’m sorry that—”

“Don’t be,” Crowley dismissed, his eyes flashing open. “You don’t need to apologize for anything. Heaven does. Hell does. All those bastards clinging to their eternal feud should answer to what they’ve put you through.”

“What they’ve put us through,” Aziraphale corrected. “You’ve been hurt, too, Crowley. You were hurt, and that’s unacceptable.”

“’M a demon—”

“You are still Her creation. And I love you. You’re so very loved, Crowley.” What a rush to finally say that. A relief after thousands of years of holding back. He touched his forehead to Crowley’s. “I wish you could feel it like I do. How much you mean to me. How long you’ve meant so very much to me.” He felt tears pricking from his eyes and clung tightly to Crowley’s hand. “We both deserved better than what we were given.”

Crowley shuddered out a sigh and wrapped his arms around Aziraphale. He buried his face into the angel’s shoulder, and Aziraphale clung tightly back. The angel and demon wept. A desperate, relieving thing now that their love was out there. But they weren’t free yet. There was still tomorrow to face.

Face. Choose your faces.

Slowly, their sobbing subsided, and they released each other enough to press their foreheads together. Aziraphale held Crowley’s face and kissed the salty tears on each of his cheeks. Crowley tilted his head a little, his breath whispering against Aziraphale’s lips. Then, he kissed him. Gentle and hesitant, as if he still wasn’t sure that Aziraphale would accept him. Aziraphale kissed back and pressed a hand to the back of Crowley’s neck, encouraging him. They had waited far too long for this. He wouldn’t let there be any doubt now.

“Angel,” Crowley breathed, and had that nickname always sounded so sweet? So gentle?

“Darling,” Aziraphale answered. He pulled Crowley in again, this time tugging the rest of him off the sofa and into his lap. Crowley stumbled a bit and laughed as he sat on the angel’s knees and put his legs on either side of Aziraphale.

“Rather eager for a holy warrior,” Crowley commented.

Aziraphale smiled deviously and pulled at Crowley’s necktie. “I’ve been patient for _centuries_ , my dear. Do you know how good you looked in a toga? Or those tight pants you’re so fond of.” His other hand wandered to Crowley’s thigh, caressing it slightly as he gazed fondly at the demon.

Crowley flushed and swallowed. “Don’t go saying things like that, angel.” He shivered as Aziraphale squeezed his thigh. “ _Ohhh_ , don’t tempt me.”

“Why would I ever tempt you?” Aziraphale whispered into the hollow of his throat. He went to kiss it, but Crowley pulled back. Aziraphale immediately relinquished his grip and looked at Crowley, concerned. “I’m so sorry. I suppose that was a bit forward. I should’ve—”

“You’re fine,” Crowley choked out. “I… I feel the same way. Believe me. Watching you eat things with that pretty little mouth. Definitely… definitely feel the same way.” He touched Aziraphale’s cheek. “It’s just, uh…” He swallowed and looked away. “A bit fast.”

Aziraphale held back his laugh at the sight of Crowley’s face. The demon was embarrassed, of all things. “Dearest?”

Crowley looked back at him. “Can we hold off, just for a bit?” he requested. “This is… fantastic. Thrilling. You wouldn’t believe how happy I am right now. But… tomorrow is still so uncertain. I don’t want to be thinking about losing you while we…”

“I understand,” Aziraphale said with a nod. “Best not to when there’s the threat of death in the air.”

Crowley lightly kissed him. “I promise we can, once it’s over with. Whatever you like, I’m more than happy to please.”

Aziraphale hummed and kissed Crowley’s jaw. “It’ll be good motivation. I’ll look Gabriel in the face and think of you.” He paused and looked at Crowley. “That’s it.”

“What?”

“Choose your faces,” Aziraphale answered. When that didn’t clear anything up, he pulled out the last prophecy and showed it to Crowley. “Choose your faces wisely. We need to literally choose our faces.”

Crowley pressed his lips together. “Alright. How do we do that? Should I try and change into a snake or…?”

“We change into each other. Swap corporations.”

“Uh, are you sure? That’s a bit risky. Could go south very quickly.”

Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand. “We’ll have to be careful. Pass through simultaneously. It may just work. Hell will be expecting to punish a demon, and Heaven to punish an angel.”

Crowley’s eyes lit up. “They’ll use hell fire and holy water. It won’t work if I’m in Heaven and you’re in Hell.”

“ _Exactly_.” Aziraphale grinned. “We’ll survive. They won’t know what to do.”

Crowley huffed. “Going to have to be convincing about it. Let on like we don’t know. Pretend like we’re one another.” He shook his head. “You’re a shit liar, though. Gonna take a lot of practice.”

“We’ve got until tomorrow morning to figure out the details. I’ll tell you what I can about Heaven, and you’ll tell me about Hell.”

That made Crowley flinch. “Maybe… maybe we should come up with another plan.”

“What?”

Crowley breathed out. “I don’t want you going down to Hell. You don’t deserve to face that. They might… it might not be a straightforward execution.”

Oh. Aziraphale’s chest tightened. Hell was built for punishment. It was only natural they would try and hurt Crowley more than he deserved. Any kind of punishment was more than he deserved. “You shouldn’t go down there at all, then.”

“Angel—”

“You’re no more deserving to be hurt than I,” Aziraphale dismissed. He caressed Crowley’s cheek. “How many times have they harmed you?”

“It’s… listen, Hell doesn’t work like Heaven does.”

“How many times?”

Crowley hissed in a breath. “Never bothered to count. Once more won’t matter.”

“It will when they kill you at the end,” Aziraphale insisted. “I won’t let you go down there.” He lifted Crowley’s hand and placed a kiss on his palm. “I’ll face your punishment, and you’ll face mine. Heaven may not physically harm you besides the execution, but they will hurt you all the same. Toss your actions, or, well, my actions back at me, or you.” He furrowed his brow. “The point is, they’re cold and cruel in their own ways. I don’t want you to face their scrutiny.”

Crowley nodded and pressed his forehead against Aziraphale’s. “Be careful. Please. If they find out it’s you…” He sucked in a breath.

“They’d never imagine such a thing,” Aziraphale reassured. “Tread lightly in Heaven. They’d be just as willing and eager to harm you.”

“We’d better get practicing, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being a tease y'all. These boys have feelings to work through first. (Just hold out for chapter 4 I promise...)


	3. Facing Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick jaunt through the events for this chapter. Next one is the fun one.

They practiced swapping corporations and imitating one another. The mannerisms were easy enough; Aziraphale always prim and presentable, Crowley about to fall over if a stiff breeze hit him. They spent a decent amount of time trying to get their voices down. Their accents and vocabulary were a bit different, and practice devolved into mockery and teasing, which left Aziraphale huffy as Crowley “prattled on” about “scrumptious delicacies.” Still, it was good, and they knew each other inside and out. Knowing someone for hundreds of lifetimes would do that.

After some time, they had it settled, and they briefed each other on their sides. They were familiar enough with the basics—over 6,000 years of conversation, they had managed to talk about work a handful of times—but it was harder to get the specifics. Crowley hesitated to explain the punishment system, but Aziraphale insisted it was better to know and be prepared.

So, Crowley had explained, in detail, all of the punishments he had endured, because Aziraphale deserved to know if he was going to be facing Hell’s retribution. Aziraphale’s eyes shined with sympathy the entire time, and he kept a death grip on Crowley’s hand, but otherwise he stayed quiet. Soaking it in. Crowley’s voice never faltered retelling his trauma, but the aftershocks of it were evident enough. When he was finished, Aziraphale pulled him close and hugged him tightly.

“You will never have to face that again,” Aziraphale promised. “At least not alone.”

Crowley pressed his face into Aziraphale’s shoulder and tried not to cry as he was held. He had expected Aziraphale’s sympathy, but this was beyond that. Protection. From an angel. His angel. Aziraphale was promising to be with him.

“Thank you,” Crowley mumbled.

Aziraphale kissed his temple. “Of course, my love.”

Then it was Aziraphale’s turn to explain. Heaven had changed a lot since Crowley had been there. It shifted with the times, just as Hell had, in order to better reflect human creation. Crowley asked a lot more questions than Aziraphale had expected. Half-remembered bits came through to him, and he tried to explain the impressions he was getting to frame it in reference to this new Heaven. Falling had done a number on his eternal mind, but he remembered broader things. It helped enough to ground him.

Aziraphale also explained his relationship with the other angels. He started out neutral enough, talking about the ranks and interactions he’d had with them, but as he recounted it, he began to see the harm Heaven had done to him. It had been hard to see, over the course of thousands of years, but with it laid out…

“They abused you,” Crowley whispered.

Mutely, Aziraphale nodded. “I suppose so.” He was shaking, grasping white-knuckled at his trousers.

“Bassstards,” Crowley hissed. His voice was dangerously low. He’d be going in, facing down Aziraphale’s superiors in the context of punishment.

“Dear, don’t do anything drastic,” Aziraphale pleaded. He moved his grasp to Crowley’s hands. “You’ll get yourself killed if you lash out. Or at the very least, you’ll expose yourself and the whole charade.”

Crowley’s jaw tensed, biting back a protest, but he nodded and conceded the point.

With their briefing finished, they arranged to meet later that day to check up on one another if they hadn’t already gone through their punishments. There was no telling just how long it would be before Heaven and Hell did come from them. Sooner rather than later was to be expected, but would it be a day? A week? Even with Agnes’ hint, it wasn’t enough to say, but both their instincts were within 24-hours.

They parted ways at dawn, Crowley going to the shop, and Aziraphale remaining in the flat. Aziraphale stretched his (Crowley’s?) spindly legs and paced around. He took in some of the finer details of Crowley’s home, including a particularly suggestive art piece and an old, familiar stone eagle. Pieces from millennia of living curated to these specific things. The plants radiated fear as he walked in. Crowley had explained his gardening style before, and Aziraphale couldn’t quite argue with the results. Still, he touched a trembling leaf and gave it a gentle kiss.

He ran out of things to do quickly. He considered sitting down and reading, then realized that Crowley didn’t have much in the way of literature, excluding tabloids and, surprisingly, an astronomy book, and Hell would be suspicious if Crowley was flipping through the pages of  _ The Picture of Dorian Grey _ rather than watching a horrendous television program.

Aziraphale settled himself languidly on the couch, as he had seen Crowley do hundreds of times at the bookshop, and flicked the television on. He didn’t pay much mind to what was on screen, a baking show as a modest compromise between Crowley’s interests and his own. He largely tuned it out and looked at the phone sitting on the desk. He then remembered there was a mobile phone as well, so he fetched it from the other room and sat it on the coffee table. Neither of them was to call unless trouble came by. No miracles outside of swapping corporations and extreme situations. No communication besides what was strictly necessary. They didn’t need something drawing attention and provoking either side.

Aziraphale watched the clock as the hours ticked by. He tried not to think much about how Crowley was managing the wait. Radio silence was terrifying, but at the same time no news was good news. Hopefully. There was always the chance Heaven got the jump on him before he could let Aziraphale know. There was also the chance Hell would come after him. Sense his demonic nature rather than look for a corporation. Even so, their essences were woven into the corporations they’d inhabited for so long. Crowley had yelped a little upon feeling the holy skin he slipped into, and Aziraphale shuddered with a sudden, pressing cold from his core. With any luck, he would still be radiating celestial energy as Aziraphale leaked demonic influence.

No one attacked. Nothing happened. The clock turned over, and it came time for him to leave and meet up with Crowley again. He turned off the television set and made sure things were in order before striding off. He walked with the same boneless swagger Crowley did--had to keep up appearances so long as he was still in Crowley’s skin.

He headed down the stairs and got to the street level when he noticed the shockingly familiar silhouette of the Bentley, parked up on the curb and gleaming brilliantly as it always had. There were no signs of the licking flames or horrendous dents from the previous day. It was freshly restored, and he had a feeling there was a certain ex-Antichrist to thank for that.

Still, he didn’t dare touch the Bentley, even if he was supposed to be Crowley. He hailed a cab and headed to St. James’ Park.

***

Too quickly, Crowley was dragged away by the angels, and Aziraphale was bashed over the head by Hastur. No forewarning, no need to convince them the one was the other. Heaven and Hell struck on sight, and Aziraphale mumbled out a “tickety-boo” before unconsciousness took him over.

There were only a handful of times he had ever truly been unconscious, being largely not a fan of sleeping. Most were due to drinking too much with Crowley. A few were by force. His skull throbbed as he awoke in the flickering halls of Hell, dragged along by his jacket collar and hands bound in front of him. The stench immediately hit his nose, and he fought his reflex to gag. He turned it into a grunt of pain instead. Crowley wouldn’t gag. He would be unfortunately accustomed to this rancid, rotting smell layered with brimstone and notes of actual death.

“Awake, are ya?” one of the demons sneered. They forced him to his feet and shoved him onward. “You can fucking walk then.”

“Thought I was cursed to crawl on my belly,” Aziraphale jibed. It was a very Crowley thing to say, he believed. It did, however, earn him a kick to the knee that almost brought him down to the floor again.

“So long as you fucking  _ move _ , I don’t care how,” the demon replied.

Aziraphale nodded. “Right. Can do. Lead the way.” He offered an insincere smile and did his best to exude the nervous confidence Crowley surely would have had. The nervous part wasn’t hard; the confidence needed some work.

He was jostled along until they burst through a set of doors and he had to fight himself from smiling at the sight of a tub. It was exactly what they had been betting on. Bless Agnes, the witch had gotten them this far. Now Aziraphale just had to finish the job and go back to his love.

***

Through some miracle (certainly not one of his own), Aziraphale got through the “trial.” Crowley’s corporation didn’t melt away to reveal the angel underneath, and none of the stunned demons were in a state to call his bluff. He was able to slip nimbly out of the tub, redress himself, and stride back through the hall. He only minorly got lost looking for the exit, but a startled demon was kind enough to show him the way. It helped that he was still dripping holy water and leaning in a bit close for comfort.

He half expected to run into Crowley in the lobby area, just like they had done before when making reports, but he wasn’t there. Better not to wait. They had an agreed meeting place, a safe distance from their respective offices. Ducks had ears, after all.

Aziraphale strode away from the building on his borrowed, spindly legs and began making his way back to the park.

***

It was a great relief and joy to find Crowley leaning against the bench as he always did. He looked a bit odd, with stubbier limbs and a softer frame, but there was no mistaking the personality beneath. Aziraphale sat beside him, settling into his own familiar place and beaming at his love. They exchanged bodies, and stories, and then they were off to the Ritz, just as Aziraphale had once promised.

They held hands along the way. It wasn’t totally natural yet and took some figuring out. Too new. Long fingers needled between rounder ones. A gangly elbow trying to hook through a more taught one. Both of them were a little unused to only having one hand to gesture with, and needing to maneuver through crowds while latched onto another being. It’d take getting used to.

They arrived at the restaurant and finally had to part so they could sit properly. Food was ordered, drinks were poured, and Aziraphale couldn’t help gazing affectionately at the demon sitting across from him. He was also quite glad to realize he didn’t need to hide his adoring looks any longer.

Crowley raised his glass and said simply, “To the world.”

Aziraphale grinned and echoed, “To the world.” No more end. That had passed. The world had survived, and them along with it. The end was gone, and the future was before them.


	4. Earthly Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a touch longer, didn't find a place to cleanly split it, but enjoy these two finally getting their sweet moment.

Lunch was a luxurious affair. Aziraphale ate his fill while Crowley drank his lunch. They chatted in an old, familiar way, but a layer of something new tinged each word. A “darling” here and there. “My love” popped up. The old nickname “angel” definitely sounded different in this brave new world of theirs. Even if he couldn’t directly see it, Aziraphale felt Crowley’s gaze lingering on him, unabashedly watching his every move.

Aziraphale also found it harder and harder to keep a distance from Crowley. He leaned in more, found excuses to reach over and touch Crowley’s hand, until Crowley finally relented and laced their fingers together. There was no need to make excuses anymore. There was certainly no excuse for how Crowley’s foot was sliding up along Aziraphale’s leg beneath the table.

“What say we go back to yours?” Crowley asked as the meal was coming to a close. (By human standards, it should have come to a close two and a half hours ago, but the waitstaff was polite enough not to notice.) “Check on the bookshop. Make sure everything’s to your liking. Adam also seems to have added his own... touch to the place.”

Aziraphale barely registered what Crowley was saying. The wandering foot took up too much of his attention. Only when it paused did he realize he needed to give a response.

“Oh, yes. That’d be wonderful, dearest.”

Crowley grinned and gestured for the check. The meal was paid for, and they headed out. The Bentley had deemed it appropriate to be outside waiting for them, and Crowley opened the passenger’s side with a grand flourish.

“Angel,” he offered.

Aziraphale smiled and stepped in, feeling a bit of a pinch on his rear as he passed. He yelped, and Crowley laughed at him before shutting the door and getting into the driver’s side.

“Foul fiend,” Aziraphale chided.

“That’sss me,” Crowley asserted. 

The Bentley roared to life, and Crowley paused for a moment. His fingers curled around the leather steering wheel, and he let out a long sigh. Crowley relaxed into his seat, shutting his eyes for a second and breathing in the scent of his car. His demonic energies thrummed with the rhythm of the engine.

“Oh, that feels good,” Crowley growled. He grinned and glanced at Aziraphale. “Let me know if I go too fast for you, okay?”

Aziraphale was about to make a comment, but then the vehicle lurched into the street, and Freddie Mercury blasted out from the speakers. Crowley unleashed himself. Ninety miles per hour had been a casual thing compared to how he now shot across London. A grin cut across his face, and his eyes turned completely golden as the speed dial crept up. His demonic essence blended with the vehicle as each surface vibrated with new life once more.

Aziraphale’s adrenaline always spiked with how Crowley drove, but there was something innately thrilling watching him like this now. The focus and energy, the wild abandonment, and Aziraphale bit his lip as he thought about the implication of going back to  _ his _ at such a quick pace.

Crowley wasn’t taking a direct route back, though. He was turning about frequently, and then using long stretches of road to gain momentum just to bank onto another street with an impossibly sharp turn. It felt like flying. It felt like freedom.

Then, Crowley slammed the breaks, turned the wheel, and drifted into his usual (illegal) parking spot, right outside the bookshop. He was panting and grinning, face flushed and shining with sweat. Then, he turned, looking at Aziraphale fully for the first time since they got in.

“Alright there, angel?” he asked with a cocked brow.

Aziraphale lurched forward and seized his face, pressing their lips together passionately. Crowley only took a moment to recover and meet him in kind, a needy whine rising from his throat. Last night he had been so cautious, and this was a passionate turn from that—full of confidence now that their feelings were known and they’d survived their reckoning. He could taste the wine on Crowley’s lips, and his mind wandered to what other things he could taste. With some effort, Aziraphale pulled back. His corporation was beginning to react, and that was best taken care of in private.

“Inside?” Aziraphale whispered.

Crowley nodded. “Inside.”

They clambered out of the car and to the bookshop front. Aziraphale fiddled with the lock for a moment, then held the door open for Crowley. Aziraphale snagged a lovely bit of rear end as Crowley passed by.

“Oi!”

“Fair is fair.”

Aziraphale stepped inside and shut the door. He found himself quite thoroughly pressed back against it in the next moment.

“Picking up a thing or two, are we?” Crowley asked. He put an arm around Aziraphale’s waist and looked at him over his sunglasses. Golden orbs fixed Aziraphale in place and made his heart flutter, but he refused to lose his composure.

“I have to keep an eye on what my adversary does,” Aziraphale replied steadily. He grasped Crowley’s slender waist and pushed him into the table by the entrance, pinning him against it and nearly causing a few volumes to topple. “Try to stay on top of him, as it were.”

Crowley’s face was flushed, and he stumbled a bit for words. “Well, ah, that’s very clever of you. Truly.” He swallowed, and Aziraphale watched the muscles in his throat contract and release. The bob of his Adam’s apple. Wonderfully ironic, he thought, as he bit it. Crowley gasped with delight and tightened his hands on Aziraphale’s coat.

“I don’t use it much,” Aziraphale breathed into Crowley’s throat, “but I do have a bedroom upstairs, if you’re keen on—”

“Oh, absolutely, I’m keen.” Crowley leaned forward and captured Aziraphale’s mouth with his own. Aziraphale hummed and kissed back with equal enthusiasm. His corporation’s unnecessary heart was racing, and he felt Crowley’s beating against his chest. This was a decidedly physical, earthly thing they were about to do, and he couldn’t be more pleased.

Aziraphale eased up and took Crowley’s hand to guide the dazed demon up the stairs to the flat. Hopefully, Adam hadn’t taken too many liberties about what exactly a bookseller kept in his private quarters. He examined the area with a glance as they got up there. It didn’t look any different, as far as he could remember, and it wasn’t very pressing, unlike the demon close behind him. Aziraphale went to his room without pausing further. He eased open the door and took a moment to kiss Crowley before they stepped inside together.

It was a room built to serve its purpose. It was filled with standard furnishings that had become antiques just by nature of passing time up here. Everything was largely for appearances or storage, so he hadn’t bothered to switch things out. Crowley stopped for a moment and had to comment, in between giggling, about how old fashioned it all was.

“A four-poster bed?” Crowley said, agast. “Really? Curtains and all, my goodness.”

Aziraphale huffed and looked away. “It was in style at the time I bought it. And I just…never thought to switch it out.”

Crowley laughed and kissed his cheek. “Oh, angel. I love you.” He hesitated, looking at Aziraphale, still unused to the words.

“I love you, too,” Aziraphale replied, and kissed him soundly. He guided Crowley to the bed until his legs hit it and he sat down.

Crowley pulled back and looked at him with incredible fondness. “You clearly want this, so I’m not going to argue you on that, but, please, don’t hesitate if you’re uncomfortable. At any point.”

Aziraphale wanted to insist there was nothing Crowley could do to ruin things, but it was still so new, and that wasn’t what Crowley was asking. Aziraphale nodded and kissed Crowley’s forehead. “I’ll tell you if I am. You promise to do the same, please.”

Crowley kissed him again briefly. “And I mean  _ any _ point. Even if I’ve got my dick up your ass or whatever, if you don’t like it, we stop.”

That made him flush a bit, breaking some of the romantic spell, but Aziraphale nodded again. “Of course, my love. Now.” Aziraphale leaned in, putting his hands on the bed and trapping Crowley against it. “I think we’ve delayed this long enough. A few centuries too long, most likely.”

“You could say that,” Crowley replied, still acting nonchalant when his red face was anything but. Rich, amber eyes focused on Aziraphale, still fully demonic from the drive. The demon’s whole body was tense with anticipation beneath those cloth layers Aziraphale planned on removing soon enough.

He leaned in to close the distance, and Crowley enthusiastically met him halfway. They kicked their shoes off at the foot of the bed as Aziraphale eased Crowley further up. They adjusted and spent a moment kissing, exploring each other’s mouths bit by bit. Crowley’s serpentine tongue slid along his, catching it in the fork and eliciting a moan from Aziraphale. Crowley gripped the back of Aziraphale’s head and deepened the kiss. His slick tongue was wonderfully wicked as it traced a path along the angel’s mouth. Aziraphale tried to meet that same enthusiasm, despite the distracting sensation of Crowley’s tongue wrapping around his own in a very inhuman manner.

Aziraphale moaned again and had to take a moment to breathe, despite not needing to. Crowley looked smugly up at him, a bit of forked tongue sticking out.

“Wily serpent,” Aziraphale breathed.

“Guilty as charged,” Crowley replied. He leaned in and licked the underside of Aziraphale’s jaw, which made the angel shiver.

“Oh, if I’d known what your mouth could do, I wouldn’t have lasted six thousand years without this.” Aziraphale grabbed at Crowley’s jacket and eased it off. He wanted to do this the human way, as much as possible, even the bit with shedding clothes piece by piece.

Crowley shrugged out of it and tossed it aside before kissing at Aziraphale’s throat. His lips pressed wetly against the angel’s throat, and Aziraphale sighed happily. Yes, it would have been too hard for him to stay away. The physical intimacy was fantastic, but that wasn’t the real appeal. The fact that it was Crowley, sucking into his neck, deftly working at the fussy bowtie—that was what really got him. The demon wanted him in this way, had the same notion to express earthly love. Aziraphale could feel it, electric in the air, with the brush of fingers as Aziraphale lost his own jacket and bowtie.

There was an expression he half-remembered. About trees. Being unable to see them. His mind was a bit fuzzy from Crowley’s tongue to think straight. It was like how Adam’s aura had encompassed Tadfield.

“It’s love,” he whispered, the realization snapping him back. He looked Crowley in the eyes, trying to fight the urge to cry. “You love me.”

Crowley blinked. “Fuck, angel, yes. I love you.” He rubbed Aziraphale’s neck. “I’ll tell you as much as you need me to, really, just don’t be surprised by it.”

Aziraphale laughed and kissed Crowley again. “No, my dearest. My love. I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize it before. I thought… I thought it was just a part of you. A part of your aura, I suppose.”

“You’re just  _ now _ figuring that out?” Crowley asked. He threw his arms up. “Angel, I’ve been a beacon of love for you for  _ centuries _ , for Someone’s sake!”

Aziraphale laughed and kissed Crowley again, because he could now, and he knew how much it would make the demon melt. “Still putting the pieces together, I’m afraid. You might have to help me…” He wrapped an arm around Crowley’s back and rubbed his spine.

The demon relaxed into his hand. “Plenty happy to. Hopefully you mean what I think you do, because otherwise I’m going to be a little miffed.”

“Oh, I do.” His hand slipped down and took a solid grasp on Crowley’s ass. The demon stuttered some undignified syllables, and Aziraphale chuckled and started his own ministrations on Crowley’s neck. Crowley hummed in approval, the vibration tingling Aziraphale’s lips along with the sensation he was beginning to realize was an overflow of Crowley’s affections. The sensations were slowly coating his brain in a pleasant, loving haze. 

He pressed his body further against Crowley’s and began sliding a hand beneath Crowley’s waistcoat and shirt. His fingers bumped along Crowley’s spine, tracing the rises along his soft skin and causing his shirt to ride up.

“Angel,” Crowley whispered. He gripped the lapels of Aziraphale’s jacket and leaned his head back to expose more of his delicious throat. Aziraphale set upon it greedily, sucking marks into the skin. Crowley could remove them later, if he really wanted to, but for now it was just a privilege to put them there. To touch his love in a way he dreamed about for so long.

Aziraphale kissed Crowley’s lips again, feeling the need to show him just how loved he was. The demon couldn’t feel it in the same way. Not in the way Aziraphale could. He’d have to wipe away the doubt. The centuries of uncertainty. Walking on eggshells, just in case their whole Arrangement went up in smoke, or their sides discovering them. He’d be happy to spend eternity making up for all those moments.

“I love you, my dearest,” Aziraphale breathed against Crowley’s lips. “With all that I am. Every piece of my celestial and earthly self.”

Crowley kissed Aziraphale back. “I love you, too.” Aziraphale put his hand against Crowley’s cheek, tracing over the bone with his thumb. Crowley put his own hand on top, then turned and kissed Aziraphale’s palm.

“I’m sorry that I pushed you away,” Aziraphale said as tears crept into the corners of his eyes. Crowley pressed reverent kisses into Aziraphale’s palm, slow and sensual touches of lip. “I’m so, so sorry I kept you at a distance. I was terrified, but it was no excuse…”

Crowley leaned up to kiss Aziraphale’s mouth. “Shh. We’ll have time to talk. I… I won’t lie and say it didn’t hurt. There’s plenty I need to get off my chest, too. But this isn’t about regrets right now. This is a celebration, yeah?”

Aziraphale blinked back against the gathering tears and nodded. “Thank you, then.” Crowley grimaced, but Aziraphale pushed on. “Thank you for the privilege of your love. Of being by your side. Trusting me, despite it all. Thank you.” He placed a chaste kiss upon Crowley’s lips before refocusing his attention on the clothes still stopping him from truly seeing Crowley.

Crowley laughed a little. “Shut up,” he said as his essence flared out more love.

“I’ll find a better use for my mouth, then,” Aziraphale teased. He freed Crowley of his waistcoat and moved down. He lifted Crowley’s shirt and revealed an inch of stomach. He pressed his lips against it and shut his eyes, beginning to mentally thank both Crowley and Her for this moment. An act of worship that was just a touch blasphemous.

Crowley’s breath hitched and he sunk his fingers into Aziraphale’s curls as the angel began to lavish his skin with kisses. He pressed his lips into the soft purchase of stomach, traced the curves of a hip bone, licked a stripe of saliva right down the center. His tongue dipped into the belly button that was there just for appearances, and he sucked a little on that ring of flesh before moving further up. All the while Crowley keened and moaned. They were both rather flushed with want at this point, but he hadn’t spent 6,000 years waiting for this moment just for it to be over with. He intended to savor Crowley the same way he approached everything else in his earthly life—slow, methodical, thoughtful, and intense.

“Fuck, angel,” Crowley said. He pressed his hips up, clearly aching and trying to find some relief against Aziraphale. “You were so eager last night. What changed?”

He stopped his ministrations for a moment. “It felt more urgent last night,” Aziraphale explained. He ran his hands along Crowley’s body, massaging the demon and learning the shape of him. “I was afraid I would lose you, even after surviving everything else. But now…” He pressed a kiss against Crowley’s sternum. “Now we have time. And I have you.” He kissed further up Crowley’s chest. “And you have me. For as long as you want.”

There was a sniff, and Aziraphale looked up. Crowley wiped a palm at his eyes. He scrunched up his face into a stern expression and hissed a bit. “Don’t say a fucking word.”

“I’ll show you now, then,” Aziraphale offered, “through this physical love.” He eased Crowley’s shirt off the rest of the way and took the dangling necktie with it. Aziraphale began unbuttoning his own waistcoat and continued, “And I’ll show you later, when we’re tangled up together, and I can hold you close and whisper to you.” He shed his waistcoat and set it aside, then began to work on undoing his shirt. “And then I’ll show you the next day, kissing you just because we can now. Holding your hand because I want to. Treating you in all the ways you deserve to be. I’ll show you each and every way that I love you.” He took off the dress shirt, and then it was just an undershirt between him and truly being exposed for Crowley to look upon as well.

“So many bloody layers,” Crowley muttered fondly. He put his hands on Aziraphale’s hips, then slid them up just a bit to the hem of the undershirt. He met Aziraphale’s eyes, a piercing, searching gaze. “You’re enough for me. You don’t have to do anything. Hell, I’d be blessed or damned or something even if this is all you give me.”

Aziraphale wrapped his fingers around Crowley’s wrists and guided his hands up underneath the shirt. “You’re a horrible liar, dearest, and I have so much that I still want to give you.”

Crowley sighed and nodded. “It really would kill me if you stepped away. I just… you… Saying all those romantic things and…” He massaged at Aziraphale’s sides, testing the give of skin. “I’m not as good with words as you are. You know that.”

“Can you try?” Aziraphale asked. He pressed a kiss to Crowley’s forehead. “Use your words. Ask for what you’ve wanted all these years.”

Crowley spent a moment, stroking Aziraphale’s skin, curving his hands along the expanse of stomach. He leaned in for a moment and kissed at Aziraphale’s collarbone. Then, quietly, he confessed, “I want you. All I ever wanted. Please, let me have you.”

“You have me,” Aziraphale answered. “I’m yours.”

The undershirt slipped up a few inches, and Crowley pressed reverent kisses against Aziraphale’s stomach, mirroring how Aziraphale had lavished upon him. It started out soft, hesitant and testing the boundaries. Aziraphale hummed encouragingly, and a tongue poked out to play along the swell of flesh. Sucking kisses, then small bites. Crowley moved up, reaching to his chest and easing the undershirt off the rest of the way. He sucked on one nipple, then the other, and Aziraphale breathed out happily.

“Darling,” the angle crooned. He massaged at Crowley’s back and relished the sensations as the demon continued to tease at his body. “So good.”

“Ngk,” Crowley choked out, wincing back.

Aziraphale took the moment to capture Crowley’s lips with his once more. “So wonderful,” he breathed out. “Beautiful creature.”

Crowley shut his eyes. “I’m…a demon.”

“You are.” Aziraphale kissed the snake tattoo.

“Can’t be those things.”

“You can be both. You are both.”

Crowley pressed against Aziraphale, wrapping his arms around in an embrace. They breathed for a moment, taking in the feel of skin on skin, the swelling and spilling love mingling between them. Perhaps Crowley couldn’t sense it in the same way, but it still seemed to affect him. He calmed a bit.

“Thank you,” he whispered. He pressed a kiss behind Aziraphale’s ear.

“Don’t thank me,” Aziraphale dismissed. “This isn’t conditional. This is what you deserve.”

Crowley leaned back enough to look at Aziraphale. “It’s… good to hear. Ah… I’ve never…” He swallowed, and Aziraphale waited for him to gather his words. “Well, Hell wasn’t exactly overflowing with sentiments, and Earth isn’t much of a place to pull that from. Not in a way that matters.”

Aziraphale pressed his forehead against Crowley’s. “Oh, my dearest. The years have been harsh on you.”

“Y’could say that,” Crowley huffed out with a laugh. “You’ve not had the easiest time either, angel. Always watching for trouble, always on edge. Waiting for the hammer to fall.”

Aziraphale nodded. His anxieties were some of his biggest regrets. He had hesitated for so long, held back just in case. Centuries of being alert, trying to not give the game away, trying to keep them both safe. At the time, it had seemed best, but now…

“Hey,” Crowley said. His voice grounded Aziraphale back to reality. “Be here with me. Please.” He pressed his lips lightly to Aziraphale’s. “Don’t let them take this from us any longer.”

Aziraphale ran a hand along Crowley’s spine and nodded. “You’re right. Seems we’ll both need reminding this is okay.”

Crowley nuzzled into Aziraphale’s neck and bit lightly at his skin. “It’s  _ very _ okay.”

A shiver ran through Aziraphale, and he rutted against Crowley instinctually. Pressing against him like this, feeling the rise and fall of his chest and the tension of his muscles. The surprising warmth of his serpentine skin… It urged Aziraphale on.

He took a moment to exchange a long, hungry kiss with Crowley before traveling down the demon’s body, sucking and nipping tenderly as he went. Crowley watched with anticipation, steady serpentine eyes on Aziraphale as he began to unfasten the snake belt.

“Let me make you feel good,” Crowley asked. He tugged at Aziraphale’s hand.

“Patience is a virtue,” Aziraphale primely replied. He smiled. “You’ll get your turn. Believe me.” Crowley’s eyes widened, and Aziraphale resumed his work. Out came the belt. Button undone. Fly teased open. Then a long struggle as the jeans clung to Crowley’s spindly legs. Then finally,  _ finally _ , easing off the remaining layer and taking a good look at the nude demon before him.

All angles and sharp edges, but with such soft planes of skin between. Lithe muscles made for speed. A face almost as familiar as Aziraphale’s own, looking down at him in wonder. Those two, golden eyes that had constantly drawn him in, now filled with affection and wonder. It felt like a blessing, and he wanted to pray and thank someone for this. Perhaps Her, or perhaps just Crowley.

“Are you ready, my love?” Aziraphale asked.

There was a hesitation. A flinch, as Crowley waited for the catch. The condition. Something that might stop them even now. Then it was gone, and Crowley nodded as he smiled fondly. “I’m ready, angel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Any and all feedback is appreciated and hope you stick around for more of these ineffable dorks.


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